Bandwidth
by lokiness
Summary: Short anecdotes detailing what happens when Owen gets to help Tosh with her computer systems. If you read, please review, it's the only way I'll get better.
1. File Sharing

"Owen, whatever you're doing, stop it."

"I'm not doing anything." Owen sat with his feet balanced on the control system in front of him, leaning back in his chair.

"Then why is my screen wibbling?"

"Not my problem." He shrugged, a small smile crossing his lips. He loved to wind the techie up. "And did you just say 'wibbling'?"

"You tell anyone I said that, and I'll kill you." Tosh glared at him from around the side of her screen, her fingers still tapping away at the keyboard, as if they had a mind of their own. Owen shrugged at her, jabbing a few of the keys on his own with the toe of his trainer. She turned her attention back to her screen, a stream of profanities issuing themselves from her mouth.

"What's up Tosh?" Owen grinned, his tone slightly taunting of her. He knew fully well what was up with her and her computer.

"Owen, I swear, if you are using up all my bandwidth to download porn again…"

"I'm not using your bandwidth." He was still grinning, waiting. Tosh suddenly leapt up, screaming.

"EW, OWEN, EW! I said not to download it, which means don't send me it either! Especially not when it's taking up all the space on the Torchwood networking system!" She calmed herself, and returned to her keyboard to fix what Owen had done to her screen.

Owen smirked. He just couldn't wait until she found what he'd saved for her in Torchwood's Shared Files.


	2. Copy and Paste

"Tosh?" His tone sounded confused, maybe even a little worried.

"Owen?" Tosh almost mirrored his tone, peering over the top of her monitor to see what was the matter with him.

"You haven't seen my print screen key anywhere, have you?" Owen was searching the keyboard franticly as she watched him, the key that was usually right under his fingertips missing.

"If you can't keep track of your keys, maybe I shouldn't let you have a keyboard." She smiled. His print screen key was stuck, with chewing gum, under her conduit. When she blocked downloads from his computer, the next best thing he had was to print screen shots from the films and set them as his desktop background. They usually, however, found their way into the Torchwood networking system and set themselves as everybody's backgrounds. She reached under her desk, checking the key was still there.

"But I need it, Tosh. Its, uh, vital to some work I'm doing." Owen dropped out his chair and started searching the floor for his key. If his key had found it's way to the floor, it was unlikely he would find it anyway, as the floors in this part of the office were pieces of grating. He stood back up, checking his desk again, making sure it hadn't magically reappeared.

"But I thought I asked you to check the death records? You don't need your print screen key for that." She played a look of mock confusion as to why he would need it for such a task. It was hard to keep the grin from her face.

"Yeah, I… needed to… copy… something…" His excuse was maybe one of the worst he'd ever given; disjointed, unbelievable, and most of all downright stupid. There was no need to copy anything. Instead of launching this fact on him, Tosh laid the ace she had hidden up her sleve.

"Copy and paste pictures of naked women to a Paint document, Owen?" His look of confusion urged her to continue. "I can see everything that's on your screen. New interface. Remember, I talked to Jack about it?" He continued to look blankly at her. "Said it would help improve efficiency? No? Anyway. I can see what's on your screen, and print screening porn is the same as downloading it."

"What?! No it isn't!" Owen hit a hand on his partially dismantled keyboard in outrage. "Downloading implies saving files from a server elsewhere, which is connected to my computer via the Internet, into a permanent or temporary file on my computer. Print screening is copy and paste!" He sat down, with his arms folded, and sulked.

"Well, at least you know the difference… You're learning." Tosh unstuck the key and threw it to him over the top of her screen. He caught it, looking pleased with himself.


	3. Morning Coffee

"Oh, hello Owen!" She was her usual chirpy self this morning, even though she still had trouble suppressing her shy smile around that boy. Owen merely glared at her, before turning his sullen expression back to staring moodily into the distance.

"I'm dead, Tosh, dead." He spat the words with all the hate he could muster. "Do you not understand what that means?" Her silence answered. "It means I do not have to take your cheery, smiling face this early in the morning, when I can't even have a coffee to make it slightly more bearable!"

Tosh sighed. It was going to be one of _those _mornings. "Look, Owen, I just thought maybe you'd like to go out this evening. You know, take your mind off things." She smiled again, trying to lighten his mood. She wondered what might've got him started on the whole 'I'm dead' routine this time.

"Like the dead _need_ to go out…" Owen mumbled. He folded his arms and sulked with his bottom lip out, like a child that had just been denied a toy in a shop. Secretly, he wanted to go out this evening, but letting Tosh _know _that would take the fun out of life – without sex and alcohol the only pleasure he had was making other people feel inferior with his razor-sharp wit. But right now, the wit didn't want to play. He sighed. Tosh laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Aww, Owen…" She gave him half of a one-armed hug. "I know you're feeling down about the whole… _Living Impaired _thing, but it'll be okay. Jack said he's very close to figuring out what's going on with the glove's energy, and Ianto says you're getting much better at making the coffee!" Her words had sounded much more reassuring in her head, but they seemed to be doing the job. He didn't seem so sulky anymore. He laid his head against her.

"Yeah, I hope so Tosh. I hope so…" A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Does anything I do count as sabotage anymore? Being dead and all?" Tosh smiled at him to continue; pleased he was starting to joke about his situation. "'Cause I sorta spilt coffee on your keyboard earlier…"

Tosh glared at him. She wondered if killing the dead was still classed as murder.


End file.
